Heroes of history

HEROES 0^ HISTORY

THE YOUTH'S COMPANION
BOSTON, MASS.

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REAL, MEN in real deeds of heroism arouse
universal admiration and a healthy ambition
in the minds of youth. Considering this fact, the
Editors of The Youth's Companion are constantly
searching for worthy accounts of worthy deeds with
which to embellish the pages of " The Family Paper

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Heroes

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Heroes of History.

UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL

The Companion Library.

Number Thirty.

SELECTIONS

From The Youth's Companion.

CONTENTS.

HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN
DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI
A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG
SINKING THE ALBEMARLE .
A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND
A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION

Page

Walter Leon Sawyer 3

. M. A. Phillips 14

. Free S. Bowley 26

T. C. Hoyt 34

Archibald Forbes 42

F. R. Lance 51

Copyright 1905.

Perry Mason Company,

Boston, Mass.

'strike northeast and round that gunboat."

HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

TO know that Ticonderoga was still in the
hands of the British galled American pride.
Yet there seemed no help for it. Colonel
Brown, with five hundred men, had surprised all
the British posts between the northern end of
Lake George and the fortress at Ticonderoga.

But Ticonderoga itself had resisted so suc-
cessfully that there was danger of a sortie upon
Brown's weary and battle-wasted soldiers; and
his only reinforcements were on the other side
of the lake, which the British, roused to activity
by his presence, patrolled night and day.

It was under these circumstances that Colonel
Brown called his men together on a certain
September afternoon.

"I must communicate with General Lincoln,"
the colonel said, when he had pictured the
situation. "You know what that means. Two
men must swim the lake. Two, because they
can help each other, and — because one may be
captured, and the despatches must not fail. I
shall not order any man to do this. Who will
volunteer to risk his life for his country?"

4 HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

" I'll go for one! " came in quick response.
"Ephraim Webster. Good!" The colonel
looked with critical approval at the stout young

COLONEL BROWN WITH FIVE HUNDRED MEN.

fellow who stepped from the ranks so gaily.
" Thank you, Webster," he added. "It's no
frolic, I assure you. But you were at Bunker
Hill; you know a soldier's duty!"

HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 5

''Who'll go with Webster?" he asked, a
moment later. "I realize the peril, men; you
may drown; the British may shoot or hang
you; but there's a chance of getting through
and saving the campaign. Who volunteers?"

A man of Webster's age, but less strongly
built than he, came quietly forward.

"Richard Wallace!" the commander hailed
him. " I knew Vermont would not lag behind
New Hampshire! Your townsfolk in Thetford
will be proud, Wallace, when they hear of this."

"Come to my tent an hour before sunset,"
Colonel Brown ordered, as he dismissed the
force. " Until that time the day is yours."

" I ought to have left it to some one else,
Ephraim," Wallace said, mournfully, after a
while. " I don't know as I can do it."

"Nonsense, Dick! Haven't I seen you swim
farther, just for fun?"

"Perhaps; but not in September, with the
night chill on the water."

"You'll be warm enough after we get started.
I've known you to feel just the same way before
we went into a fight; but you didn't run, did
you? I ain't afraid of you, Dick!"

Nor was the officer who, at Colonel Brown's
order, went with them, later on, to advise in the

6 HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

choice of a route. While the daylight lasted
they climbed a hill that commanded the lake.

The British fleet was on the alert. Evidently
the shores on each side were constantly watched.
At that moment signals were passing between
the flag -ship and Ticonderoga. The patriots
saw the patrol - boat threading amongst the
larger craft, and remembered that she would
be even more vigilant when darkness fell.

"The distance across is about a mile at this
point," the officer observed. " By the course
you must take, it will be nearer two. Strike
northeast and round that upper gunboat. Then
I'd head for that point of woods. You'll probably
find Lincoln's camp south of the fort. There'll
be British, I guess, between you and it. Better
start right for it, without waiting for daylight."

" That's so!" laughed Webster. "The red-
coats can see too far when the sun shines."

The night came on cloudy and with a late
moon. The gentle breeze died with the sun,
and the warmth of the day seemed to vanish as
quickly. There was an autumnal sharpness in
the quiet air that pierced to the bone.

"I dread cramp more than I do the British!"
Webster said, through chattering teeth, as he
rolled up his clothing.

HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 7

Now that the time for action had come,
Wallace had no more doubts. " We'll get warm
in the water," he answered, cheerfully.

Their friendly officer helped them to fasten
their bundles of clothing by cords that crossed
from the forehead to the back of the neck.
Then he shook hands with them, silently and
solemnly, there in the darkness, and the volun-
teers dropped into the black water and began
the long struggle across the lake.

They swam with long, steady strokes, hus-
banding their strength. Although they kept
together, they exchanged few words. Occa-
sional sounds from the vessels came so sharply
to the swimmers that the fear of betraying their
own presence set a seal on their lips.

Webster had quickened his pace and left
Wallace behind. The British vessels showed
few lights, save from the officers' quarters ; and
it was easy to avoid these beams that made
infrequent pathways through the gloom.

Clear of the ships, Webster delayed for his
friend. It was unsafe to call to him. He
would not have waited so calmly had he known
that at that moment Wallace was facing death.

The danger threatened from an unlooked-for
source. A sudden incautious movement had

8 HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

thrown the cord from Wallace's forehead. The
weight of the bundle of clothing drew and
tightened it round his throat.

"As though the British had me at the yard-
arm ! " he muttered.

It seemed a simple thing to release himself,
and he smiled at his own grim joke as, treading
water, he put his hand to the cord. The first
effort showed him that this was no laughing
matter. The cord seemed momentarily to con-
tract and slip from him as he strove to replace it.

One of the smaller gunboats was just ahead
of him. A bell sounded. He heard the watch
call the hour and cry, "All's well!" All well!
And he was strangling !

A formless shape swept across the darkness,
and his tortured senses were conscious of the
gentle dip of muffled oars. The patrol-boat
was on her rounds. Life was sweet. A few
strokes would take him to the boat. There he
would find help, aye, a welcome! The British
would not harm him if he revealed the patriots'
plans. But his conscience revolted. Better
die than betray his country!

There was a ringing in his ears. Sparks of
flame shot across his field of vision. But in his
fierce impatience at his own weak thought, he

HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 9

made a last desperate clutch at the cord, pulled

it into place, and was again free to go forward.

He made his way, with effort, to the nearest

THE BRITISH FLEET WAS ON THE ALERT.

vessel, and held himself up by her cable while
he drew in long breaths of the cool night air.

His strength returned, and with it came the
consciousness that this was no safe resting-place.
He slipped into the water and paddled away.

10 HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

Presently a faint whistle guided him to Webster.

"All right, Dick?" Webster asked.

"All right," was the cheering reply.

It was time to turn southward, and they took
the new course, although it was half a matter of
chance. For ten minutes they held it without in-
cident; then there broke out in the fleet an uproar
that almost persuaded them they were discovered.

Shots were fired, and they heard the noise of
boats getting away. But the lights showed that
these were moving toward the western shore,
whence the patriots had come ; and the relief of
that knowledge brought renewal of vigor.

Weeks after, they learned that a deserter had
tried to swim ashore and had drowned when
nearly within reach of safety. Then they knew
that if he had left his ship but a little earlier the
pursuit would have resulted in their capture.

Ignorant as they were of such cause for thank-
fulness, the moments dragged on. But at last
the long swim ended. Just as Wallace touched
a bough that overhung the water, he heard his
comrade's voice, sounding faint and far away :

" Help, Dick ! I'm sinking ! "

An instant served Wallace to jump ashore,
break off the branch, and plunge in again. A
second, feebler cry led him to Webster; and

HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

11

the next moment saw the drowning man and
his rescuer on dry land.

Cramp had assailed Webster, and he was
helpless. Wallace opened their bundles, and
rubbed him until the circulation was restored;
then they set off in search of their friends.

The moon had risen while they lingered, and
although the forest was pathless, and dark
enough at best, they made fair progress. They
had but a vague idea of General Lincoln's

RUINS OF FORT TICONDEROGA.

whereabouts ; yet it seemed that following the
direction they had taken they must reach him.

An hour went by, and the toilsome tramp
showed no result. All at once, from a clump
of trees came the challenge, " Who goes there?"

They halted, but made no answer.

Webster, who led, stooped and gathered a

12 HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

handful of earth, his purpose clearly in mind.
They knew they must be very near the friend
or enemy who had spoken, and with fast-beating-
hearts they stood still and waited.

It was no long wait. There was a flash and
a crackle, a birch-bark torch flared into a blaze,
and by the light they saw that their challenger
was a British sentinel.

Webster threw his handful of earth with steady
aim. It smote the torch to the ground and
extinguished it. The sentry discharged his gun,
but the bullet whistled harmlessly past them.

Before the report had ceased to echo, they
were far away from the spot, running with that
long, swinging and almost noiseless stride that
marks the trained woodsman.

There was no pursuit; or, if any, it took the
wrong course. Unmolested, they skirted the
fortifications on Mount Independence, and still
scatheless, they turned toward the lake again.

Thus they went, till the night seemed endless
and the quest hopeless. They pushed on dog-
gedly, for theirs was not the temper which
succumbs ; but the rough road and their aching
limbs made every step a torture. When they
spoke, in whispers, it was only to cheer each
other with hope of speedy arrival.

HEROES OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 13

"Halt! Who goes there?" brought them to
a sudden stand, when they were almost spent.

"Friends!" Webster answered, recklessly.

" Advance, friends, and give the countersign ! "

It was a moment of desperate anxiety. They
were discovered. They doubted that strength
would serve them for another dash through the
woods. What to do? It was with hardly any
hope, save that of gaining time, that Wallace
demanded : " Whose friend are you ?"

And then the patriots learned that the long
night of effort had come to a happy end, when
the invisible sentry said, in the earnest voice of
an honest man: "America's! God bless her ! "

This is a true story. Wallace and Webster
are no fictitious heroes, and in all important
details this recital follows established facts.

In the immediate and practical sense, their
exploit had no result. Nothing noteworthy
came of the message to General Lincoln.

Yet we know that a noble deed is never
wasted. The man who performs it sets a new
star in the sky. Because we can look up to it,
we are better citizens, truer Americans, than
we would be if Wallace and Webster had not
ventured their lives for their country.

Walter Leon Sawyer.

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI.

FOR years previous to 1804 American mer-
chant shipping in the Mediterranean suffered
from the depredations of the Barbary states.
Hundreds of our citizens were held in captivity,
and were compelled to labor as slaves till their
friends paid enormous sums of ransom money.

The pashas even demanded tribute for the
protection of our commerce, and their insolence
was so intolerable that Captain Bainbridge,
who had been sent with the annual tribute,
wrote, "I hope I shall never again be sent to
Algiers with tribute, unless I am authorized to
deliver it from the mouths of our cannon."

The opportunity came that very year. A
fleet of seven vessels was sent to redress the
outrages on our merchant marine. One of the
earliest incidents of the expedition was the loss
of the frigate Philadelphia, in which Captain
Bainbridge had chased a corsair into the port of
Tripoli. In attempting to beat off, she ran on
a hidden reef outside the harbor, and fell into
the hands of the barbarians.

The sight of this fine frigate, once the pride

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI. 15

of our navy but now in the possession of the
corsairs, with her guns turned against those
who had built her, filled the hearts of the Ameri-
can officers with emotions of the profoundest
chagrin. In the mind of none of them did these
emotions rankle more deeply than in that of
young Lieut. Stephen Decatur, and from this
moment he conceived the bold idea of entering
the port by night and recapturing the frigate
where she lay, under the guns of the castle.

By urging his scheme as the only means of
success, he at length won from Commodore
Preble a reluctant consent to attempt the exploit.

The entrance to the port of Tripoli was but
little known to American sailors; there were
dangerous reefs about it, on one of which the
Philadelphia had been lost. Moreover, within
the harbor lay a numerous fleet of piratical
vessels, while the Philadelphia herself, anchored
close under the high walls of the citadel, was
reported to have been converted into a veritable
floating castle, and to be manned by a crew of a
thousand Tripolitans. Nevertheless, Decatur
believed that she might be retaken, and he at
once called for volunteers to go with him.

Seventy men eagerly offered, among them a
brave Sicilian pilot, Salvadore Catalano, who,

16 DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI.

fired by the accounts of our free land and free
institutions, had entered our service at Syracuse.

A small vessel, recently captured from the
pirates, was selected to transport the attacking
party. Its name was changed from the Mastico
to the ketch Intrepid, a name which will be
forever famous in the annals of our navy.

The party embarked on the evening of Feb-
ruary 3, 1804, and Lieutenant Stewart, desir-
ing to accompany the expedition, was given
permission to do so in his brig, Siren.

Thinking it possible that it might be necessary
to set fire to the Philadelphia, the Intrepid was
stored with combustibles, and virtually converted
into a fire-ship. The Siren was to bring off
Decatur and his party in case the Intrepid was
burned. Preble had strongly advised Decatur
to make no attempt to bring out the frigate,
but to burn her or blow her up at her moorings.

After a pleasant voyage of a little more than
three days, the Intrepid and the Siren arrived
in sight of the towers of Tripoli, and made prep-
arations to attempt their contemplated service
that night, February 7th; but before evening
one of those heavy gales, so common on this
coast in winter, began to blow, and the Amer-
icans were compelled to put to sea in haste.

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI. 17

For six days they were storm-tossed, and it
was not until the afternoon of the 16th of the
month that they were able to get back to Tripoli
again, and then in a wretched plight, hunger
for food as well as thirst for glory being now a
powerful sensation beneath their jackets.

But the sight of Tripoli fort, and the Phila-
delphia lying beneath its white walls, roused

AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE BARBARY PIRATES.

their martial courage again, and although the
Siren had not yet joined the Intrepid, Decatur
resolved to make the attack that night at all
hazards, while the weather favored.

The Intrepid stood in at the main channel
about nine o'clock, and the night, although clear,
was quite dark, with the pale crescent of a new
moon just sinking in the west.

18 DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI.

The wind had nearly fallen, only a breath of
it continuing to fill the sails ; still the ketch stole
gently in, and passing the Shinel on the west
side, glided slowly across the harbor. The pale
hull and tall masts of the Philadelphia could
now be made out, looming high in the obscurity.
So slow was the progress of the little craft that it
was near half an hour before they had approached
within two hundred yards of the frigate.

It was Decatur's plan to run under her bows
and board over the forecastle. All the Ameri-
cans, save the lieutenant himself, the pilot and
two or three others, were lying beneath the
bulwarks, out of sight. The breeze soon failed,
and the Intrepid lay stationary not over a hun-
dred yards from the frigate. How to move
nearer was a grave question ; but at this moment
a puff of wind off the land took the sails aback,
but canted the Philadelphia, and swung her at
her cables in such a manner that the two vessels
lay broadside to each other, and not more than
sixty or seventy feet apart.

Heads could be distinguished above the rail
of the frigate, watching the ketch ; and immedi-
ately a hoarse voice hailed her, and asked
why they did not anchor, the officer evidently
mistaking the Intrepid for some trading craft.

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI. 19

" Answer, Catalano, and say to him that we
have lost our anchors in the gale under Cape
Misratah," said Decatur to the pilot. "Ask
him to allow us to run a warp to the frigate,
and ride by her till morning."

Catalano did so, and after a moment's hesita-
tion and scrutiny, the Tripolitan captain gave
his consent, but cursed them for a set of lubbers.
He immediately hailed again, and asked the pilot
what brig that was in the offing, for they had
sighted the Siren at sea just before sunset.

Decatur chanced to know that the English
had recently sold an old man-of-war to the
pasha at Malta, and that this vessel, named the
Transfer, was soon expected by the Tripolitans
to arrive from that island.

He instantly bade Catalano reply that the
vessel seen was the Transfer. This statement
appeared to gratify the Tripolitans.

Meantime the boat of the Intrepid pulled off
to the side of the frigate, and took out the
end of a hawser which was made fast to the
Philadelphia's fore chains. Three or four of the
Intrepid' s crew began gently hauling at this line,
to fetch the ketch alongside. At the same
moment a boat from the frigate came across to
the ketch, for there was evidently some distrust

20

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI.

on the part of the Tripolitans as to the character
of the Intrepid and her movements. The boat's
crew at once took alarm, and pulling back to the
frigate, called out, "Americanos! Americanos!"

THE FLAMES RISING IN A DAZZLING COLUMN.

The cry was taken up and repeated from a
hundred throats, and from that moment all was
confusion and uproar. The Americans behind
the bulwarks of the ketch leaped to their feet,
and hauling at the line, drew the ketch

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI. 21

alongside, while the frigate crew was seen
pushing the tampions from the muzzles of the
broadside guns, getting ready to fire.

With a dull, grinding noise, the Intrepid
grazed against the frigate's side; and she had
hardly touched when Decatur, leaping from the
rail of the little craft, caught the main chains of
the frigate, and climbing to her rail over the
channels, sprang down alone upon her deck.

Midshipman Morris, a little farther forward,
was on board at about the same moment. For
some seconds these two daring fellows were
engaged hand to hand without support. The
utmost confusion prevailed among the crew of
the frigate, else they must inevitably have been
cut to pieces. Before the furious strokes of their
cutlasses the Tripolitans drew back, and the next
instant the entire party of Americans swarmed
aboard and took possession of the after-deck.

Meantime the men of the frigate were rushing
up from their berths below. Hundreds of them
were crowded together forward, their officers
shouting wildly to them, and inciting them to
charge the "Americanos."

But before they could form or execute these
orders Decatur's men rushed upon them, cutlass
in hand. A short, sanguinary contest followed.

22 DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI.

Some of the enemy fought with courage and
desperation, but the most of them appeared to
be panic-stricken, and crowded back upon each
other so densely that even those who would have
fought had not room to wield their weapons.

Twenty to thirty Tripolitans, as was estimated,
fell beneath the strokes of the Americans, and
many who were wounded jumped overboard, to
avoid the disgrace of falling into the hands of
the despised Christians.

Less than three minutes sufficed to clear the
deck. Many of the Tripolitans swam ashore,
and many others, taking refuge below, lost their
lives in the subsequent destruction of the vessel.
Of Decatur's party, strange as it may appear,
only four men were wounded in the affray, a
result probably due chiefly to the suddenness
and energy of their onslaught.

The Philadelphia was now in the hands of
the Americans, and had there been a breath of
wind, Decatur would have cut her cables and
attempted to get her out of the harbor. Or if
the Siren, with her men and boats, had been at
hand, it is possible that even so heavy a vessel
might have been towed out of the harbor. But
none of these facilities were at his command.

Meantime, while the youthful leaders hurriedly

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI. 23

consulted together as to what course they should
pursue, the great guns of the castle and neigh-
boring batteries suddenly belched flame, and
heavy shot began hurtling and tearing through
the rigging over their heads. The Tripolitan
fleet, too, immediately opened fire upon the
frigate ; numbers of these vessels were anchored
within two cable lengths of the Philadelphia,

which suddenly
became the focus
of a cordon of fire.
The crash of her
timbers and the
whiz of splinters
in the darkness showed the adventurers that
no time must be lost if they would escape the
fate of Bainbridge and his crew.

Determined, whatever befell himself and party,
to destroy the frigate, Decatur gave the order
to pass up the combustibles from the Intrepid.
These stores, consisting of kegs of tar and cans
of oil and turpentine, were hastily passed on
board the frigate, and in the darkness, lighted
only by the flashing of the enemy's guns, carried
below and piled in the gun-room, berths and
cockpit, storerooms forward and the berths on
the berth-deck. An eighteen-pounder gun was

A CAPTURED CORSAIR CANNON.

24 DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI.

then hauled back from a port and pointed down
the main hatch, in order that, when the fire
reached and discharged it, the ball might knock
the bottom out of the ship and sink her.

Despite the enemy's fire and the danger of
their situation, all these orders were executed
with precision. Fire was then set to the vessel
in five places, and immediately volumes of black
smoke, lighted up by flashes of flame, began to
issue from the hatchways and lower ports.

Meantime, numbers of armed boats were seen
putting off from the quays and from the ships
of war lying near. Still Decatur would not give
the order to abandon the frigate till assured
that the fire had gained such headway that its
extinction would be impossible. Although the
Tripolitans opened a musketry fire from their
boats, they did not attempt to board the frigate.

Not till the flames were bursting from many
of the ports and rising in a dazzling column from
the main hatch was the order given to reembark
on the Intrepid. Little hope was entertained
of escaping by most of the men ; for they were
literally girt about with the enemy's boats and
ships of war, with a tremendous artillery fire
converging upon them, and so dead was the
calm that the enormous volume of black smoke,

DECATUR'S DASH AT TRIPOLI. 25

now brightly illumined by the flames, rose
straight upward into the sky.

They shoved off, however, and succeeded in
getting clear of the burning frigate. Two sweeps
were hastily rigged. With these they could but
barely move the heavy ketch, and it seemed
that, exposed to such a terrific artillery fire, the
destruction of the little craft was certain.

But at this moment Providence supremely
favored the brave fellows ; a breeze from the land
suddenly filled the sails of the ketch. She
stood away at a good rate of speed past the
Shinel and gained the outer bay, the cannon-
shot plunging into the sea all round her, throw-
ing up white fountains which sparkled in the
ruddy light of the conflagration. Only three
balls of all those discharged at them struck the
ketch, and not a man was injured.

Before they were fairly clear of the entrance
of the port the magazine of the Philadelphia
exploded, thus insuring the destruction of the
ship; and then with three rousing cheers of
derision, which could not have failed to reach
the ears of the corsairs, they stood out to sea
and bore away for the fleet.

M. A. Phillips.

A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG.

THE steamer from Newbern, that carried the
wagon-train of which Jim Wright had
charge, proceeded directly to Baltimore. At this
place all of the officers' baggage and the camp
equipage of the 76th Regiment were dumped
out. The wagons were then reloaded with am-
munition, and rushed to the front.

It was late in the afternoon of July 2d when
Jim's wagons reached the vicinity of Gettysburg.
All day they had heard the sound of cannon,
and toward noon had met streams of wounded
and squads of prisoners under guard.

Now the officers were continually hurrying
the trains forward, and as Jim's teams were in
excellent condition, his train was in advance of
the others. He could hear musketry rattling
furiously over beyond the hills on the left, when
a staff officer came galloping up to the wagons.

" What have you in those wagons?"

"Ammunition, sir; E. B. cartridges, caliber
.58," answered Jim, promptly.

"Good! Get those wagons up to the front
as quickly as possible! Kill your teams if

A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG. 27

necessary, but get there! The left of our line
is being flanked, and the men are nearly out of
ammunition. Hurry, for God's sake, hurry!"

" Show me where to go, captain, and I'll shove
those wagons there as quick as mules can take
them," answered Jim.

"Come on!" The officer dashed ahead.
" I'll show you."

The captain led Jim's train from the main
road, up a slight elevation, and then, looking
down the steep hill and out into the field beyond,
Jim saw the Union line. Flashes and puffs of
smoke beyond that marked the enemy's position.

A division of regulars was retiring slowly; on
their left one battered brigade was stretched out
in single rank, with their left flank "refused," or
bent back like a door on a hinge.

" O Lord, we are too late ! The enemy are
on our road ! " shouted the officer, in dismay.

"Captain," said Jim, scanning the ground,
" I can take a wagon down that hill, across that
wheat-field, swing to the left, and give those
boys ammunition."

"If you could you might save the whole army.
But can you?" the captain cried.

The feat looked impossible. The hill seemed
too steep. The likelihood that the wagon would

28

A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG.

overrun the team and be upset, and the whole
load lost, was very great. Once at the bottom,
however, the teamster would be all right.

" I can tie a couple of dead mules to the hind
end of the wagon, and they will a*ct as brakes.

THE FOREFRONT OF BATTLE.

I've let wagons down gulches worse than this,'*
said Jim, confidently.

" But where are your dead mules?"
"Here, captain," and Jim pointed to the
leaders of a team. " I'll tie them on behind
the wagon, and," touching his pistol, "when we
begin to go down the hill they'll be dead! "

A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG. 29

" Good ! good ! " said the captain. " Go ahead ;
it's our only chance. But be quick ! "

"Sam," said Jim, addressing the black driver,
"I want you to drive your team down there."

"Yes, boss, I hear yo\" was the stolid answer.

"I'm going along with you, Sam," said Jim.
"It's mighty hot down there; we may both be
killed; but those cartridges have got to go to
the boys in that line — understand?"

"Sergeant Jim," said Sam, "did de cap'n say
dat dis load ob ca'tridges mout sabe de army?"

"That's what he said, Sam."

" Den, boss, I's a-gwine ter take dem
ca'tridges dere. Jes' yo' show de way. I's
a-gwine ter stay wid yo' ! "

"Bully boy, Sam! That's the kind of talk!
We aren't killed yet, and I hope we won't be."

Then Jim, having pointed out the course he
wished the negro to take, tied the two mules
doomed to serve as brakes to the rear of the
wagon, and stripped off the canvas cover.

"Come on!" yelled the officer.

Sam leaped into the saddle, cracked his whip,
and shouted, "Git — yo'!" and the wagon started.

It was but a short distance to the summit;
then came a steep, rough descent to the rolling
field where the Union line was fighting. As

30 A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG.

they reached the crest, Jim's revolver cracked
twice, and the two mules fell. Away the wagon
went, plunging, crashing down the hill, and
would have been dashed to pieces had it not
been steadied, and its speed checked by Jim's
ingenious brake. At the base of the hill his
keen knife severed the halters of the dead mules
without slackening the speed of the team, and
the wagon went flying toward the blue line.

The hissing, humming bullets were every-
where; splinters flew from the wagon, and with
a shriek Jim's horse stumbled and went down.

Jim sprang from the saddle and ran beside
the team, shouting at the mules, and soon the
wagon was in the rear of the forefront of battle.

Back from the firing line the sergeants came
running and eagerly seized the pine boxes of
cartridges. A mule went down ; his harness
was quickly cut and the wagon rolled on. The
captain's horse was shot under him; he fell
with it and Jim and Sam saw him no more.

At the next halt, soldiers with powder- black-
ened lips, bloodshot eyes and ashen faces were
round them, yelling, ''Cartridges! cartridges!
cartridges ! " and more of the pine boxes were
quickly pitched out and smashed, and the car-
tridges in each distributed to the men.

A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG.

31

"Pass the word for the boys to hold on hard
a little longer — the Sixth Corps is coming on

cartridges! cartridges! cartridges!

the double-quick, and is almost here ! " shouted
Jim, as he gave out the ammunition.

32 A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG.

"They'll have to come mighty soon, or they'll
be too late," said a sergeant. The leading mules
had been shot. Only three remained ; but on went
the wagon, Sam holding the leader by the head.

But a slight hollow seemed to afford some
protection, and Jim led Sam that way. They
were almost there when a withering volley felled
one of the remaining beasts. Instantly Jim's
knife cut the beast out ; then Sam grasped the
yoke on the wagon-pole, exerting all his strength,
and yelling at the remaining mule, while Jim
pushed behind, and all together, with one des-
perate, final effort, they rolled the wagon into
the little hollow! At that instant a bursting
shell crashed over their heads, scattering its frag-
ments in every direction, and the faithful negro
and the last mule went down together.

The soldiers came running for the few remain-
ing cartridges, and Jim Wright, picking up a
musket which one of the wounded men had
dropped, ran with them to the line.

"Stay with them, boys! stay with them!" he
yelled. "The old Sixth Corps is almost here!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! there they come!
There's the white cross, boys!"

Down the side of Little Round Top, in mag-
nificent order, two full brigades came pouring

A TEAMSTER AT GETTYSBURG. 33

on the run. Then the feeble cheer that went
up from the hard-pressed line was drowned in
the crashing volley that came from the troops
of the Sixth Corps, whose advance struck the
enemy's right flank, threw the men into disorder,
and quickly drove them back into the shelter of
the thick woods beyond the field.

The rays of the setting sun were touching the
crest of Round Top when the firing ceased, and
Jim Wright made his way back to the wagon.
There the black man still lay, face downward,
beside the dead mule, and a froth was on his lips.
Jim snatched from the wagon-box a canteen
in which remained a pint or more of precious
water, knelt beside his driver, raised his head,
and poured a little water between his lips. The
drops revived the wounded man ; he opened his
eyes, and a smile came over his face.
" De ca'tridges done got yere in time?"
"Yes, Sam, they got here just in time."
"Den, boss, it's all right. Tell de boys dat
ole Sam — done stay by — as long as he las'."

" He was black and a hero. He gave his
life for his country as truly as any soldier," said
Jim to a grizzled sergeant.

Free S. Bowley.

SINKING THE ALBEMARLE.

ONE of the most daring exploits ever per-
formed with a torpedo-boat was that of
Lieut. W. B. Cushing, a young officer then
scarcely twenty-one years of age.

The terrible career of the ironclad Merrimac
at Hampton Roads was still fresh in the minds
of the people of the Union when, in 1864, the
Confederates equipped a still more formidable
war-ship in Albemarle Sound. This ironclad
ram, the Albemarle, issuing from the Roanoke
River, had defeated the Federal fleet in two
furiously contested naval actions.

So successful had she been that it seemed
probable that unless she could be disabled or
destroyed, the military movements of General
Grant against Richmond might be seriously
imperiled. The destruction or defeat of the
Albemarle was therefore a necessity.

Provided with only an ordinary launch and a
spar torpedo of rather complicated construction,
Lieutenant Cushing volunteered to go up the
Roanoke River, a distance of seven or eight
miles from our fleet, and if successful in passing

SINKING THE ALBEMARLE. 35

the Confederate pickets and batteries, attack
the dreaded Albemarle at Plymouth wharf.

A crew of thirteen bold men from the sailors
and marines of the fleet volunteered to accom-
pany the lieutenant, and on the night of October
27, 1864, they set off on their desperate mission.

One of the Union vessels, the Southfield, had
been partially sunk in the river,
in the previous naval battles.
The Confederates were in pos-
session of the wreck, and it
was thought impossible for the
launch to pass it undiscovered.
Should it be discovered, the
men in the boat taken in tow LIEUT- w- B- CUSHING-
were to make an attack on the Southfield, and
thus divert attention from the launch itself.

The channel of the river averages about two
hundred yards in width, and is rather tortuous.
Both banks were lined with Confederate pickets.
Relying on the darkness of the cloudy night,
the launch and her intrepid crew moved slowly
up the stream, every man watchful and silent.

The launch was not seen by any of the Con-
federate pickets. It crept forward, and passed
within twenty yards of the stern of the wreck of
the Southfield without discovery by her sentinel.

36

SINKING THE ALBEMARLE.

On turning the bend in the river, just below
Plymouth wharf, where the Albemarle lay, a fire
was seen on shore, almost immediately in line
with the ironclad. This proved of great service

DROVE HER
DIRECTLY AT THE BOOM

to Cushing and his men, for they could see the
outline of the ram against the light, and were
thus able to locate it.

The launch was stopped for a few moments,
and everything got in readiness for a dash.
The torpedo-boom was hoisted out, and the

SINKING THE ALBEMARLE. 37

lines tightened. The torpedo consisted of some
sixty pounds of powder, placed in a copper case,
and held in a scoop at the end of the spar.

When the spar was lowered the torpedo could
be projected forward and downward by a sharp
pull at a line attached to it and extending back
to the stern of the launch; then after it had
sunk to the required depth, by means of a
second line, it could be exploded.

"Look sharp, and every man do his duty!"
was the whispered command, and the launch
dashed forward at full speed. Before it was the
long, dark hull of the ironclad. Four lookouts
wrere seen pacing back and forward on her deck,
the light beyond the vessel revealing their forms.

The moment the little launch came within the
wide circle of the firelight, one of the sentries
cried out, " Boat ahoy there!"

There was no reply. Instantly the sentries
sprang their rattles and began to fire their car-
bines, repeating the hail, "What boat is that?"

By this time the deck of the ram was fully
manned, and a rapid fire was opened on the
launch. Several of its crew were shot. Lieu-
tenant Cushing ordered a howitzer to be fired.
The charge of canister at such short range con-
fused the Confederates and flurried their aim.

38 SINKING THE ALBEMARLE.

Meantime, the launch had reached the side
of the ironclad, and Cushing found that the
formidable vessel was protected by an outlying
boom of logs, that had been placed about thirty
feet from her side. For a moment he was at a
loss how to proceed, but immediately brought
the launch about and drove her directly at the
boom. The shock either broke through the
obstruction or forced it in several feet.

A hail-storm of bullets and grenades was
now poured into the launch. Nearly half her
crew was hit. Three balls tore through dish-
ing's clothing. But he lowered the torpedo-
spar, and with a vigorous jerk on the line
succeeded in diving the torpedo down under
the overhang of the Albemarle's iron armor,
just abreast her port quarter, and with a smart
pull on the trigger-line the plucky lieutenant
exploded the torpedo.

The shock drove the launch violently back-
ward, and a tremendous column of water,
thrown up by the explosion, fell into it and
completely swamped it.

A hole about five feet in diameter was blown
in the side of the ironclad, near her bilge.
Through this the water poured with great
violence, causing the vessel to careen rapidly.

SINKING THE ALBEMARLE.

39

There was much confusion among her crew,
a part of whom still continued to fire at the men
in the launch as the little vessel lay disabled
alongside. An officer twice shouted to Cushing
to surrender. This Cushing peremptorily re-
fused to do, bidding him look to his own ship.
Then calling to such
of his men as might
be alive, he bade
.them save them-
selves if they could.
All this occurred
in less time than it
has taken to tell it.
Cushing jumped
into the water, and
swam for the middle
of the river — a
dozen bullets falling
about his head as
he did so. Five or six of his men, the most
of whom were wounded, remained in the launch,
and were taken prisoners by the Confederates.
Master's Mate Woodman and a sailor named
William Hoftman jumped overboard with Lieu-
tenant Cushing, and swam away. They took
different directions in the water ; and the sailor,

AMONG THE REEDS.

40 SINKING THE ALBEMARLE.

being a good swimmer, got ashore at some
distance below, and made his way through the
enemy's lines to the mouth of the river. He was
the only man of the party, except Cushing, who
escaped. The lieutenant himself swam steadily
down -stream for half a mile or more, taking care
to make as little noise in the water as possible.

At last, finding his strength about gone, and
owing to the darkness, not knowing where the
shore lay, he swam feebly, barely keeping his
head above water, and he had almost given up
hope of getting ashore, when his feet touched
bottom and he drew himself partly out on the
mud among the reeds. So utterly exhausted had
he become that he made no effort to stir from
the place, or even to get entirely out of water,
for nearly two hours, but lay there in the mud.

Dawn compelled him to take some further
measures to avoid capture. He crept into the
swamp which here bordered the river, and hid
himself in some brush beside a path which led
to a battery not more than three hundred yards
distant. Here he remained, slowly recovering
his strength, which had been at its last ebb.

After lying there for several hours, he crept
away through the swamp, and emerged near
a hut, two or three miles below the town.

SINKING THE ALBEMARLE. 41

Presently, seeing a negro come out of the
hut, he beckoned to him, and secured a promise
from him that he would go to the town, and see
what the people were saying about the ironclad.

The negro was absent several hours, and then
came back with the news that the dreaded ram
was truly at the bottom of the river. This negro
also procured food for the young officer.

Toward evening Lieutenant Cushing set off
again, crossing another swamp, and after a toil-
some tramp through brush, mire and water,
found upon a creek an old skiff. By this time
it was dark, and in the skiff he made his way
slowly down the creek to the bay where the
Federal fleet lay at anchor. At eleven o'clock
that evening Cushing reported on board the
Valley City. With a little steam launch and
sixty pounds of powder at the end of a light
spar, he had accomplished what the entire fleet
with its heavy batteries had attempted in vain.

T. C. Hoyt.

A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND.

IT was July 4, 1879, the culminating day of
the Zulu War. Four days previously Lord
Chelmsford's army had quitted its reserve camp
and had marched down into the valley on which
stood the huge circular kraal of Ulundi, the
military capital of King Cetewayo.

About half - way along the valley it had
encamped for a night among some swamps, and
the next day had tramped onward to the bank
of the White Umvaloosi River. There it had
formed a lager, and waited for two days the
result of an ultimatum to the Zulu monarch.

The latter had pronounced for fighting; and
so, on the morning of the 4th, the column had
marched out of the lager, forded the Umvaloosi,
and marched across the plain in formation of a
hollow square, with its front set toward Ulundi.

In the middle of the plain the word to halt
had come; for that plain had suddenly grown
black by reason of the hordes of Zulus who had
sprung up out of the long grass. How fiercely
they came on, with what heroism the naked
men with their hide shields in front of them

A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND. 43

charged up almost to the points of the British
bayonets, how the Martini-Henry bullets mowed
them ruthlessly down, till twelve hundred dead
and wounded Zulus littered the plain in a close
circle round the British square — these things
have now gone into history.

Half an hour of steady firing, half an hour of
frantic, bootless charging, half an hour of stead-
fast, civilized fighting opposed to the reckless
heroism of stalwart savages armed with assagais,
sufficed to give the victory to the British. An
hour later there was not a live Zulu inside the
horizon, and the flames of Ulundi rose high into
the clear South African air.

The night before Guy Dawnay under escort
had reached camp with despatches from our
base at Landmann's Drift, one hundred and
twenty miles away on the Natal frontier. He
was to abide the issue of the morrow's fight,
and take out to the world the tidings of its
issue. On that issue hung many dispositions.

Sir Garnet Wolseley had been sent out to
supersede Lord Chelmsford, and he was on
the march with another column to strengthen
Chelmsford's force. The battle gained, there
was no need for that column to advance. The
whole future pivoted on the result of the fight.

44

A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND.

That fight had been fought, and we had won
it, Immediately after the battle Lord Chelms-
ford made known to the war correspondents
that he proposed despatching Dawnay and his
escort on the journey back to the base at six
o'clock the same evening, and that he would
carry whatever messages should be handed in

to the headquarters
by that hour. This
was considerate on
the general's part,
and due acknowl-
edgments were
made to him.

I rode forward
and saw what of the
Ulundi kraal the

I RODE FORWAHU AND SAW FLAMES. n , 1

names that were
rapidly lapping up its grass-built huts would
allow me. I returned to the halted column,
and then I rode into the lager, whither our
wounded were beginning to arrive. Leisurely
I wrote a description of the battle, for there
was not much to be made of a combat so short,
so unmethodical, so one-sided. As six o'clock
approached, I crossed the lager to the head-
quarters tent, where I found Lord Chelmsford

A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND. 45

and his military secretary, Colonel Crealock,
writing under an awning. I laid down my
despatch, thanking his lordship for the opportu-
nity of its transmission.

" Oh," said Lord Chelmsford, rising with some
seeming embarrassment, " I have decided to
hold Dawnay over till the morning."

"Till the morning!" I repeated, in absolute
bewilderment. The military necessity for
urgency was so obvious that this intimation
simply astounded me.

"Yes," said Lord Chelmsford, shortly, "I
haven't got Colonel Buller's casualties yet, and
can't finish my despatch till I do."

What had Buller's handful of casualties to do
with the broad issue that we had won a victory
which altered the whole face of events? It was
as an old soldier, not as a correspondent, that
my temper got the mastery of me.

"Then, sir, I'll go myself!" I blurted out.

Lord Chelmsford responded with a bow and
smile in which I detected a mocking incredulity.
After that I would have started had the Zulus
been besieging the camp. I curbed my temper
with an effort, and determined not to be outdone
in ironical courtesy, I asked, " Can I have the
honor to carry anything for your lordship?"

46 A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND.

His lordship had no commands, and I was
turning to go when Crealock called out, "Wait
five minutes, and I'll give you a despatch!"

Verily my enemy had been delivered into my
hand. As a bearer of official despatches, I
should be entitled to claim a fresh horse at each
of the intermediate posts between the Umvaloosi
and Ulundi, of which there were four.

I waited ten minutes, the precious sun sinking
lower and lower as I waited. Then my despatch
was handed me; I saluted and turned away,
then for the first time to realize my rash folly.
But I was too great a coward to remain after
that sardonic smile on Chelmsford's face.

A man who means to ride for life should be
well mounted. I went to the picket-line and
looked over my stud. The freshest seemed the
horse I had ridden that day, a well-bred old
sorrel about fifteen hands high. He had courage
and a fair turn of speed. I bade my groom
saddle the stanch old sorrel.

I mounted, and riding to the tent of my dear
old friend, Gen. Evelyn Wood, I asked him what
message I should send to his wife and mother.

"Sheer madness, your going!" exclaimed
Wood. " I forbid you to leave the camp ! "

Then I told him how it had been, and he

HE RKACHEU OUT IN THE SWINGING CANTER.

48 A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND.

owned I had no alternative. " God bless you ! "
were his last words, as I rode away.

The last rays of the setting sun flecked the
green slope above the camp as I cantered up it.
There was no road through the tangled under-
growth, only the marks that had been made by
the wheels of our wagons. That the dispersal
of the Zulu army by the defeat of the morning
had peopled the bush with fugitives, I was
certain ; and I thought of the kraals our irregular
horsemen had burned during our advance.
These I should have to pass, and some of their
inhabitants were sure to have returned, in quest
of the stores of corn-cobs buried under the huts.

Twilight set in as I swung along with the
wheel-marks for my guidance. For two or three
miles all was still save for an occasional rustle
among the bushes that made my nervous horse
start and swerve. Behind me glowed still up
against the fast blackening sky the sinking
flames of Ulundi. Aye, and fires became visible
in front of me, the fires set in the dismantled
kraals by the Zulus who had returned to them !

Now I heard the loud shouts of the Zulus
calling one to another from kraal to kraal.
There were fires on the right front, fires on the
left front ; but directly in front was a fortunate

A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND. 49

interspace of darkness rendered blacker by the
fires on each side of it. It was a forlorn-looking
chance, but it had to be taken.

I patted the good old sorrel, drew my revolver,
not that I had any hope if it came to a fight, but
because of the instinct not to die without a trifle
of satisfaction, and cantered steadily on with
tightened rein. The shouts grew nearer, till
they seemed in my very path. In the shafts of
light that came through the foliage I could
discern the foam-flecked forehand of the sorrel,
as he reached out in the swinging canter.

One loud shout close by, and I touched the
sorrel with the spur. I never knew whether I
had drawn that shout, or whether it was a chance
exclamation. I know I all but rode over one
fire, and several times distinctly saw the naked
Zulus cowering around the flickering flames.
Seen or not, I could not have been pursued,
else for sure I should have been headed, for in
the darkness I dare not dash on at full speed.

At last I had lost my way and sunk all my
bearings. I was among the swamps where we
had camped, but I could discern no way out,
and was afraid to press on, lest I should be
engulfed. There was nothing to do but to halt
till the moon should rise, which would be soon.

50 A NIGHT RIDE IN ZULULAND.

The longest half-hour I ever spent in my life
was when sitting there on my trembling horse
in a little open glade, revolver on thigh. At
last the first moonbeam flashed on the upland
sky-line, and then down into the hollow. I
recovered my bearings and recommenced my
journey. An hour later I was challenged by a
sentry outside the reserve camp, and then, with
a long sigh of relief, I realized that the most
dangerous portion of the ride had been safely
accomplished. The sorrel had done the twenty
miles in two hours, not including the halt.

I left him in the reserve camp to his well-
earned rest. But there was no rest for me. I
had a hundred miles still to ride through a
region all but trackless, a region of hill and
valley, rock and swamp. How I made my way
from post to post, telling the news as I pro-
gressed, would be over-long to tell in detail.

Dawn found me at Fort Marshall, trying to
eat, but able only to drink. Soon after noon I
rode into Landmann's Drift, and in ten minutes
more a brief telegram to Sir Garnet Wolseley
was speeding along the wires. Two hours later
came back his cordial thanks and complimentary
expressions that I should blush to write down.

Archibald Forbes.

A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

FROM brave old Admiral Ting down to the
last stoker in the cockpits, every man of us
who was aboard the beleaguered Chinese fleet
felt that the end was very near.

Won Kee, our Chinese cook, struck his little
gong for breakfast. Then Captain Wung of the
Sun-pai, a Chinaman who had been educated in
the United States, Franz Lotze, the German
engineer, and I went to the galley, where we
made a hasty repast of canned beef, ship-bread
and tea. When I went on deck, fifteen minutes
later, the sun was brightening the grim ramparts
of the western forts.

Our flag-ship, Chen-yuen, was lying a few
hundred meters off our port bow. By their
gorgeous uniforms of yellow and blue, I could
recognize Admiral Ting and half a dozen of his
officers, as they stood on the after-deck with
marine glasses in their hands. A group of
sailors were heave-hoing cheerily as they busily
braced the fore-rigging.

I was still gazing upon this scene when a jet
of white smoke spurted from the more easterly

52 A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

fort, and the resonant report of a thirty-centimeter
gun boomed across the harbor. With a crash,
the big shell burst over the island fort to our
left. One fragment of it came screaming down
to the deck of the Kung-ping ; others splashed
into the water about the ships.

The Japanese had opened the ball. In
another moment the whole line of forts along
the enclosing heights belched smoke and flame.
Full fifty heavy guns had opened fire simul-
taneously. From the west side of the harbor,
too, a dozen batteries of mortar and field-pieces,
skilfully masked among rocks and shrubbery,
chimed in with their lighter thunders. The
Chinese forts on Leu-kung-tao and Isle Lito
began to reply. Smoke-clouds rolled up to hide
the sky. The noise was deafening.

The gong below struck the order to quarters.
At a signal from the flag-ship, the Sun-pai cast
off from her buoy and her screw began to churn
the water. Down in the torpedo tunnel I could
only sit passive and watch the dial. Captain
Wung was at his post under the little observa-
tion drum or dome which, well-armored and
pierced with loopholes, rises two feet above the
iron-plated decks of these boats.

"Come up here, if you like, till an active

A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION. 53

order is shown!" he called down to me, and I
hastened to take advantage of his permission
that I might see what was going on outside.

The big cruiser Chen-yuen was coming slowly
about. So accurate was the enemy's fire that
six shrapnel shells from the Japanese mortar
battery burst in quick succession over her deck,
sending such an iron rain upon her armor as
must have cleared the deck of men had any been
exposed there.

"By my father's head, they fire well!" mut-
tered Wung. "But no better than Chinese
can be taught to fire," he added, thoughtfully.
" Give them training, and officers whom they
can trust, and they'll shoot all right."

As he spoke, a solid shot came down with a
loud "sudge" into the water so close to us that
the torpedo-boat reeled upon the wave it made.

"That would have smashed the Sun-pai like
an egg,,J said Wung, coolly, giving me a curious
glance from his oblique brown eyes.

The next instant a ragged fragment of a shell
cut through our deck plates and stuck there;
and two shrapnel bullets came "ping" against
the little dome, within a yard of our faces.

Wung gave some orders to the engineer
below and to the Chinese steersman aft. Then

54 A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

he lighted a cigarette and offered me another.
He was perfectly calm and knew the effect of
calmness upon his subordinates.

Following the lead of the cruiser Chen-yuen,
we steamed round the south end of the Isle
Leu-kung-tao. Here, under cover of Fort
Koto, we were largely sheltered from the heavy
guns of the eastward forts; but now we were
even more exposed to the field -pieces and
mortar batteries which lined the western shore
of the bay. The flag-ship and the protected
cruisers were not endangered by these light
projectiles; but to small craft the location was
still more perilous than the one we had left.

We were not here long, however. At a few
minutes past nine, as I looked down the ship-
channel past the high, rocky shore of Leu-kung-
tao, I saw one of the enemy's large war-ships,
the Yoshino, come into view past the lower end
of the island, not more than a mile and a half
away. She was followed by the Naniwa, and
soon five large ships were in sight. They were
closing in to engage us.

"Look sharp for signals now!" said Wung,
throwing away his cigarette. "Watch the flag-
staff on Fort Koto. That is where we will get
our first signals for action."

A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION. 55

The flagstaff was half-hidden in smoke. At
last the clouds drifted aside, and there hung
a yellow pennant over a blue and a white,
which I promptly reported. Wung glanced at
the signal color-sheet, which was posted on the
wall of the drum in front of him.

"'Torpedo-boats prepare!'" he exclaimed.
"That's for us!"

"Hurrah for Ting!" I cried, excitedly,
although I knew what it meant for torpedo-boats
to attack by daylight. Wung called the order
down the speaking-tube to the engineer, and
then looked through the slits of the drum again.

"Can you see anything at all?" he asked.
"The pole's completely hidden. No, there it
comes again. A yellow, two reds and a blue
flag, isn't it?"

"That's right," I said.

Wung looked again at the color -sheet.
"'Torpedo-boats form in two lines,'" he read,
and putting his lips to the speaking-tube, he
called out to the engineer :

"Let her go, Lotze; quarter speed!" And
then he added in Chinese to the helmsman:
"Hard aport!"

All the small craft came about simultaneously.
For some minutes the confusion was extreme.

THAT MEANS GO.

56

A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION. 57

Boats were backing, sheering, lining up, amid a
chorus of shrill whistles. At last there was a
semblance of order, and with seven boats in
front and six behind, we moved at quarter speed
toward the boom, led by the naval tug, which
went ahead to open a joint and thus enable us
to pass out.

There was a delay of ten minutes ; then we
filed out and lined up once more. I strained
my eyes to catch the signal through the smoke
which often hid the flagstaff on the fort. As I
looked, it was shot clean away.

''The color staff is down!" I cried.

" Look to the flag-ship, then," said Wung.

While we were still waiting for final orders,
the Lu-kien, a boat in our front line, was either
struck by a shell or else her boilers exploded.
With a horrible roar she collapsed and, with all
hands on board, sank almost instantly. Yet
in the terrific thunder of the fight about us, we
scarcely gave a thought to the awful fatality.

" Look for four yellow flags, one above
another," said Wung. "That's the new code
signal for attack."

Just then a string of colors went apeak on the
flag-ship. "There it is!" I shouted, in a burst
of excitement.

58 A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

4 'What do you make it?" asked Wung.

" Four yellow flags — sure ! "

''That means go," said he, calmly, and put-
ting his mouth to the tube again, he called:
" 'Forward, full speed! Steady!"

The torpedo-boats had formed outside the
boom in two lines, the Sun-pai being the third
from the right in the rear line. But the instant
the signal to attack was given all order ceased.
Each boat started at full speed, as her captain
discerned the signal, and every attempt to hail
or concert a plan of action between boat and
boat was utterly drowned by the continuous roar
of the cannonade. Every captain picked out
his point of attack; every stoker heaped coal
like mad into his furnace, and down the channel
we all went, pell-mell, for the Japanese fleet.

When we started, five of the enemy's largest
cruisers had come to, off the lower end of Leu-
kung-tao, and had opened with their long-range
guns upon the Chinese fleet. Shells and solid
projectiles were hurtling over our decks, but I
do not think that the Japanese were aware of
our attack until we were well on our way.

We were completely shrouded in a choking
fog of our own smoke, and it was probably this
moving cloud that first warned them of their

A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION. 59

danger. At the time I could not see fifty feet
ahead, but I have since been told that in response
to a signal from the Yoshino the five cruisers
backed off for half a mile and took up a semi-
circular position, while they hastily brought their
Hotchkiss and other rapid-fire guns to bear on
us in a convergent storm of shot.

In the bow compartment of the Sun-pai I had
a torpedo ready set for discharge, while three
others were prepared. My two Chinese assist-
ants squatted there, waiting to work the apparatus
at my bidding. For the first half-mile, however,
I remained with the captain, looking out of the
loopholes in the dome.

As we dashed forward we could discern the
outlines of one or two boats ahead and abeam
of us, but not much else. In the lulls of the
cannonade we could hear the thrashing of our
screw in its rapid pulsation.

" I shall make for the nearest ship I see," said
Captain Wung, "and I'll tell you when to let
go at her. Never mind the dial. I'll call out."

As he spoke, a Japanese ship suddenly opened
her battery of rapid-fire guns: Flash! flash!
flash! They seemed to spit red flame through
the smoke in front of us.

"To your post," said Wung, with a quietness

60 A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

of manner that I could not but admire. "I
know you'll do your duty," he added; " all we
can do is to die like men."

I had scarcely reached my post when the
Sun-pai bumped into the boat ahead of us and
scraped heavily along her side. A solid shot
had pierced her boiler ; she came to a standstill,
and soon sank. I felt that we had veered from
our straight course, but from the quick throb
of the screw and the noisy rush of the water
outside, I knew that our speed had not abated.

A horrible explosion followed right abeam;
something heavy, like a gun or smoke-stack, fell
on our deck. I knew by the sound that some
boat near us had blown up. The Sun-pai rocked
violently and veered again. Where we were
heading now I had no idea. Captain Wung
was probably trying to keep clear of other boats.

Then came a sickening shock that seemed to
stop us short. The steelwork about me vibrated,
and a frightful metallic ripping of wrenched iron
seemed to pass from stem to stern. A shot had
struck us.

My two Chinese shrieked with terror; both
sprang to gain the deck. "Back!" I shouted,
and seized one of them ; the other slipped past.

The boat rocked unsteadily, but the screw

A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

61

was still going. On the floor of the lookout
Captain Wung lay on his back. He was dead,

%

V w*

"we can't stop her!

I thought, as I saw blood about one ear. But
he stirred, and presently struggled to his feet.

Above us the iron dome had disappeared, and
with it the funnel and most of the deck plating,

62 A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

stripped off by a single shot. The next moment
a percussion shell struck us forward, and a storm
of smashed oak planking and twisted iron flew
over our heads as we squatted on the floor of
the unprotected compartment. It must have
been the end of poor Lotze and the stokers, for
we never saw them again. Apparently this
shell did not burst till it had reached the after
part of the deck, for a great hole was torn out
there clean down to the bunkers. Steersman,
wheel and steering chains were gone.

We had changed our course again, and were
heading toward the northwest shore of the bay.
A war-ship lay ahead of us.

11 By the face of Tau ! " exclaimed Wung, still
somewhat dazed. " Helm gone, and steersman,
too! We're going straight for the Tschiyoda.
Her guns will open in another second."

" Shall I shut off steam?" I shouted.

There was nothing of the coward in Wung
Tsai, whatever may be said of his race. " No ! " he
cried. " Let her go ! Get out your torpedoes ! "

The Tschiyoda's guns began to get our range.
I swung down the scuttle to the forward com-
partment. The Chinese assistant whom I had
prevented from escaping crouched beside the
tube, staring wildly, paralyzed with fear.

A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION. 63

" Out with you ! " I screamed, for there was a
hole in the bow plates, and in a few moments
the place would be full of water.

Before we could get out, however, Wung
called out to me, " It's useless; we sha'n't strike
her! We're going clear."

As I clambered up I saw the high side of a
war-ship looming over us not twenty meters
away. Several officers and a squad of marines
stood at her rail. One or two marines cracked
their carbines at us, and an officer pointed
toward us with his sword and laughed. I fancy
it was an order from him that saved our lives.
The Sun-pai was an utter wreck, and to shoot
us seemed like murder. He stepped forward
and shouted "Surrender!" first in Chinese and
then in English.

I saluted, and making a speaking-trumpet of
my hand, shouted back: "We can't stop her;
she's unmanageable ! " They laughed again.

Meanwhile we had cleared the Tschiyoda and
were pointed directly for the high, steep shore
of the channel, scarcely two hundred meters off.
The Sun-pai was leaking fast and had settled
visibly when she struck the shore with a violent
shock. Even then her screw continued to turn.

We jumped off the bows into five feet of water.

64 A TORPEDO-BOAT IN ACTION.

My Chinese assistant, the only survivor of our
crew, ran off along the beach ; but Wung and I
made for some copses of evergreen among the
crags above us, hoping to conceal ourselves and
await the coming of night.

Bitterly cold and drenched to the skin, we
squatted in a thick clump of bushes, and might
have made our escape had not a mob of Chinese
seen us from the shore. In hopes of reward,
these wretches gave information to the enemy's
pickets. Before we guessed our danger a lieu-
tenant and six men were upon us. We were
covered by their rifles, and there was nothing
for it but to crawl out and surrender.

The lieutenant treated us most politely, and
seeing that we were soaking wet, he offered us
his cigarette case with a most engaging grimace.

That night we spent aboard a troop-ship, and
a day or two afterward we were transferred to
some prison barracks below Yokohama. It was
nearly four months before I once again enjoyed
my liberty. F. R. Lance.

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